Part 2

With a loud cry he threw himself upon the lifeless form and wept, while the fair siren by his side laughed and laughed. Beside himself with indignation he panted, trying to strike her and hurl words of hatred in her face; but his hands fell helpless by his side; they had no power to execute his will. He seemed rooted to the ground.

V.

"Get up from this wet ground, you fellow! How did you ever come here in this beastly weather?" He heard a deep sympathetic voice by his side. Awakened from his swoon, soon he looked amazed around him. What had happened? He did not know at all. His limbs were helpless and he lay on the ground where he must have fallen. His treasured source of income, his precious book, containing all his humorous lectures, lay rain-soaked near his side. How long he had been lying there unconscious, he did not know himself. A slim well-dressed man stood before him, doing his best to help him get up and trying to comfort him as much as he could, shaking his head wonderingly, and inquiring how he ever happened to be lost in such a place.

The lecturer looked about him with great relief. He did not see the gnomes anywhere. So it was not true what they told him, what they sneered at--

His heart rejoiced. It was only a hallucination, nothing else. All he had seen and heard must have been a stupid fancy of his tired brain. The best proof was, that he found himself lying helplessly on the ground, just awakening from a swoon.

Yes, the condition of his brain was at fault; that was as clear as daylight. "Thank God!" he exclaimed, while a feeling of unspeakable joy surged through his heart, now gladdened with thankfulness.

"I came near believing all that stupid nonsense of those wicked gnomes about my----"

"Hey! listen to me, poor fellow! What in Heaven's name, are you doing here on that wet ground?"

It was not until the stranger by his side had repeated his question that he could pull himself together and answer in a stammering voice, while a cold shiver shook his emaciated frame.

He looked at the stranger with dilated eyes. "Beg pardon sir. I--I must have lost my way. I was to give a humorous lecture at a neighboring hotel, and--and fell down," he said helplessly, picking up his rain-soaked book, which he had discovered within reach.

"Why, you are wet through and through, my man. What can I do for you?" asked the stranger with deep sympathy.

A strange look of wonder illuminated the face of the downfallen man. He stammered: "If you would have the great kindness to help bring me to the Mountain View Hotel. You see, I am expected there. I've got to earn some money tonight yet." He paused to cough; his voice seemed sepulchral.

"I have a motherless child to support." His head was bent to hide his emotion. "My girlie must have all she needs. I--I couldn't stand it if they were to let her go hungry. God!" Again a vehement cough shook his wasted frame.

"Well, well, this turns out all right. I'll bring you there as we are staying in the same hotel."

"He's got fever, sir--better let's get him on the box," he heard the coachman say who stood by his side looking with obvious pity at the man before him.

A few paces away, a closed carriage was standing with two lighted lanterns in front of it.

The storm had relented for a while, and mysterious silence fell upon the scene.

"Ogden!" now called out an excited woman's voice from within the carriage. "To miss the table d'hote on account of that wretched beggar. Why it's just unpardonable!"

"That voice!... God have mercy!"

The man on the ground stammered as if struck by lightning. His eyes dilated, starting out of their sockets and staring horrified at the carriage.

"That voice," he repeated. "Could it be possible? Could she be there? Am I still under the influence of that horrible hallucination?" he moaned piteously. He could not and would not believe a word of all they told him.

Again he seemed to hear the revolting chuckle of the insolent gnomes, from the Traunstein, repeating their malignant tales of the outrageous conduct of his--

"Up with you quickly, for we'll have more rain within a short time!" said Mr. Ogden, now in a sympathetic voice, and at the same time heeding the woman's command in the carriage, which he would not have ignored for any consideration.

The coachman assisted the stranger to his seat on the box, and then Mr. Ogden entered the carriage, closing the door carefully.

Then the splendid team of horses set off like the wind. "God have pity on me! that voice!"

He could never forget the voice of that alluring siren who had goaded him on, until he saw nothing but her seductive face, listened to nothing but her deceitful declarations of love, without thinking of his mother's grief and her death!

Could it be possible? She here in that closed carriage with another man? No, no! It was another hallucination of his feverish brain.

How could she ever have attained such wealth? "Nonsense!" he murmured smilingly to himself, drawing a long breath of relief. Ah! how he had adored that faithless woman!

The smiling expression died out of his face, and a mournful compassion for his deserted child stole into his troubled countenance. Why did she bring so much misery into his life? Every fibre of his noble heart had been throbbing with uncontrollable love for her! And now----the light of life, the hope of future years, was blotted out, clouds of despair and a grim night of an unbroken desolation fell like a pall on his heart and brain. Nothing to look forward to but misery!

VI.

He had wandered about like a soul condemned and lost to eternity. But the one hope to meet her again possessed him, kept him alive. And then--she'll come back to him--he was convinced of that; to his lonely little Mary. And after all she might be touched by his devoted love that knows how to pardon and overlook certain occurrences in the life of a giddy-headed woman!

Unfortunately the cold, calculating coquette had never felt a tinge of anything like love, and had only an observing eye for the monthly allowances he received from his well-to-do parents.

He had come to Dresden a young, inexperienced student to pursue a course in literature and jurisprudence. The handsome, dashing woman, somewhere in the twenties, soon allured him with her well tried arts. Within a short time he was her devoted slave and did not see nor hear anything else but her alluring voice, and after six months' acquaintance he led her to the altar without the knowledge of his parents.

When they found it out, through a friend living in Dresden, they were in despair, in their helpless anger. His mother never recovered from the rude shock her ambition had received. She did not know the woman, but when she heard that she belonged to a different faith, she was crushed, although the noble catholicity of spirit that distinguished her character did not allow her to show it. Her proudest hope to see that beloved son some day a respected citizen and lawyer in that little provincial town where his cradle stood, was gone forever!

Years of wrestling with life's sorrows had set upon her noble, benignant countenance, almost a seal of holiness, and shed over her placid features the mild, sweet life of a pure heart. Her white hair, the snowy mass prematurely white, wonderfully softened the outlines of her face.

Now deep lines commenced to furrow her sweet, indulgent features, and she grieved so deeply over the disgrace that she began to lose her health. Silently, without a word to her husband she performed her household duties, until one day her enfeebled constitution gave way and she died, praying for the only child she had ever had.

Her husband, Mr. Burge, under the double stress of the sorrow, refused to hear anything of the ungrateful son, for whom he had slaved and worked all his life, and whose grievous mistake in marrying an adventuress, had cost the mother's life.

He had a large estate to look after, but he was alone now. He needed the son, but what could he do? He was ashamed of the daughter-in-law! "No, not a cent of my money can she have," he murmured constantly to himself with a flushed face and dry lips, looking at his imposing estate, where the beautiful Rhine rushed by and the tumbled down castles of long-forgotten races were seen in the distance.

The irate father dissolved all connection with the son and stopped all payments, denying him any assistance whatsoever in the future.

After the regular allowance from home had entirely ceased, it was necessary for the young husband to go and seek some profitable employment to support his expensive wife.

He had never earned a cent, and racked his brain now how to get money. The tantalizing condition pressed upon him that he might not be able to support his family. Finally, he got a position with a meagre salary in a newspaper office, but he was scarcely able to provide the barest necessaries of life.

He commenced to write short stories. Although he had no ambition to climb to such a lofty niche in the temple of fame, he thought he might at least earn a modest income. Short stories and humorous lectures--that must make a hit. Everybody said that he had a humorous vein. Now the time had come to show his mettle, but the short stories were generally returned. The irate father had ceased to send money and no other help was discoverable. And then--after all that--she, his loving wife, dropped her mask and showed herself in her true colors.

"I have had enough of this," she said with a disgusted shrug of her white shoulders to her horrified husband. "I don't intend to starve here."

In vain he begged her to have a little patience for the sake of their child. The last short story must turn out to be a great success; he felt it and was really convinced of it.

"Convinced," she sneered contemptuously and turned away. No use of losing any breath about it, she thought. I am through with him anyway. Oh! How she longed to be rich, wear stylish clothes and be admired.

The beautiful coquette became restless in her little home; she looked about sick at heart, unable to tolerate it any longer, only wishing to get the opportunity to leave it forever. Her eyes were full of scorn when looking at her husband, who could not supply her with all that she longed for just now, and for which she would have pledged the salvation of her very soul. She commenced to frequent public places in the absence of her husband.

How she loathed poverty! "Anything but that," she murmured to herself, her face white with disgust as she walked on, gazing in all directions to see one of her former acquaintances, with a strange unrest in her large eyes. Her opportunity would come; she was sure of that, and it came in meeting one day the rich Englishman who was introduced to her by one of her former friends and boon companions.

Shortly after this encounter, she received a letter from the Englishman telling her of the deep and lasting impression she had made on him and how he longed to see her again. Her face flushed with pleasure as she read all these, and then perused an invitation to take an automobile ride through the beautiful mountains.

For some time she sat dazzled, and then she looked at the poorly furnished rooms; at her own wretched outfit, and her eyes flashed indignantly.

"I am through with all this. Here is the opportunity I was longing for," she said with a contemptuous smile. "I'll show him--the young inexperienced fool I have married--that beauty counts for a whole lot and ... boldness even more."

She stopped at the window and looked down at the Englishman's automobile before her door.

"The opportunity--my opportunity has come." These words rang ceaselessly in her ears and filled her being with a strange endeavor to avenge herself on the man who could not supply her with all the luxuries she craved for, and according to her ethics, was entitled to.

VII.

It was on Christmas eve, her husband had come home with a radiant face. His short story had been accepted, and the money was in his pocket. Now he could buy a fitting present for his wife. Of course it could not be too expensive, but she certainly would enjoy it all the same; he was sure of that, feeling that the opening of a successful career was inaugurated.

On his way home he had also bought a little fir tree to set up for the first Christmas celebration in his own home. The recollections of similar holidays in the house of his parents stirred him to the depths. How his heart quivered when he thought of his dear mother he loved so dearly. If she only were alive how different everything would be! He, who was brought up in luxury, mother's pet, and now--

With deep emotion he entered the house. With a brisk step he opened the door, looked around and found it empty, the wife and all her belongings gone!

The horror of that night was something he could never forget as long as he lived. Holding his ten months' old child in his trembling arms, he wept burning tears for her, the mother of his child. Could it be possible? A mother deserting her child on this holiest of evenings? He could not believe his eyes, but all she possessed went with her. No, no, she was giddy-headed, but not cruel. Motherhood must assert itself and surely would. How he loved her, how he longed to take her in his arms and feed his poor, famished heart with a touch of her lips!

He sat there in the dark listening and waiting for her to come back, to see the presents he had bought for her, and the money he wanted to give her. But one hour after another passed and nobody came. In the streets a joyous throng of merry makers pushed and jostled about wishing each other a merry Christmas. His heart was shaken to its depths by maddening grief; by bitter disappointment.

The room was icy cold, there was no fire in the stove, and the child half starved, screamed weakly in his arms. In wild desperation he trampled on the little Christmas tree he had brought along to celebrate his first Christmas in his own home! He could see nothing but falsehood and treachery in this world. What meaning was there for him in this life-redeeming symbol?

Sick of everything he longed for death to come and take him and his little child away. Throughout that dreary night of agony he lay in bed holding the child in his arms, pressing his lips against her tender little hands, without being able to close an eye.

The bell in the neighboring churches rang out in the ears of the deserted man, sounding dismally through his lonely house. But they brought back pictures to his mind of his childhood's happy days, when he went to church on similar Christmas eves with his parents. One tear after another stole into his desperate eyes.

"God have mercy on me and my child," he murmured stammeringly. "I must, I will live for her sake. I cannot leave her altogether an orphan," though the gaping wound in his own heart kept on bleeding, bleeding incessantly.

VIII.

"There! Here we are at last, no weather for a dog to be out," growled the angry coachman sulkily, jumping down from the box and opening the carriage door with a respectful bow, hat in hand.

Mr. Ogden staggered quickly out and lifted tenderly and carefully a woman's form to the wet ground. Young Burge, the deserted husband, had just come down with the help of the coachman who growled something he could not understand.

He looked at the woman in the darkness and a mist swam before his eyes; he leaned against the coach and his knees shook so that he could not make a single step. The night was black and the wind sobbed down the street, while the rain still fell in torrents.

He could not see clearly--but that voice--that voice! God! "Could they have been right--these wicked, malicious gnomes? Did they know all about her and now, how?" he asked himself while his hands clutched the book convulsively in his helpless agony.

He thought he heard them again whispering, with a derisive chuckle, the whole story of her downfall into his terrified ears.

"How could she ever come to such magnificent clothes?" he thought. "Nonsense! It is simply a hallucination of a morbid, disordered brain. I am sick and miserable and see things where there is nothing to see." This he murmured half aloud to himself, gazing at the retreating form of the woman incredulously. He could not distinguish her features and he made up his mind forcibly, in order to quiet down his excited nerves, that it was nothing else but a foolish trick of his imagination, and the fever which shook him now again was the obvious cause of it all. "Anyway, how could she have obtained all this luxurious outfit? His wife wealthy? Nonsense!"

He tried to laugh cheerfully about this foolishness, but suddenly he felt as though a knife were plunged into his heart. "The gnomes! the gnomes! If that which they had said were true!" He moaned to himself, leaning against the wall in a faint condition. "Oh, anything but that ... anything but that!" His whole frame shook as from palsy. That voice haunted him. He knew he had to go and look at her in order to convince himself, otherwise he could not find any rest.

IX.

"Come, come! You must not lose your courage, my good fellow," said Mr. Ogden good-naturedly, coming out of the house at the same time. "But before you do anything else, you should go inside and get those wet clothes off; yes, that you must do, my man, you look pale enough indeed, and...."

"The deuce! If that is not our expected entertainer, the humorous lecturer from Ishle!" cried the stout, dignified hotelier, with a laugh as he caught sight of the dripping form of the poor, dazed lecturer.

"Lord, what a state he is in! Why he isn't able to lecture!"

"Never mind, a hot grog, some dry clothes from my wardrobe, and the rest will soon be managed," said Mr. Ogden good-naturedly with a sign to his valet, greatly gratified in being able to help the poor, miserable looking man with the pallor of death on his emaciated face.

"And as for your entertainment being a great success, well--leave that to me, my dear fellow and don't worry; it will be all right," he went on, clapping the dazed humorist on the shoulder with an encouraging smile.

He bowed, without being able to utter a word of thanks; he bit his trembling lips and followed the valet with stumbling, shivering feet.

"Who could this benevolent stranger be? And what was he to that woman? Was he mistaken or not? If, after all she should be his--his--"

A hot wave flushed his face, distorted with shame as he thought of the possibility; his sorely tried heart was hammering mightily within him.

He could not get rid of this thought. "If she should really be the mother of his poor child ... what, in the name of Heaven, was she then to this man? God have mercy on me and come to my aid!" he cried aloud, in great misery, his teeth once more chattering audibly in a fresh attack. "No, no! I can't and won't believe it! She can't be so shameless as to disgrace me and her innocent child!"

"Come, come quickly, sir," urged the valet impatiently, "I'll help you as much as I can."

After he had provided him with all the necessary clothes from the elaborately assorted wardrobe of the rich Englishman, who was about the same size, he made as careful a toilet as possible, under the prevailing circumstances and under the careful inspection of the helpful valet.

X.

The supper bell now rang through the vast corridors of the Mountain View Hotel, crowded with tourists from all parts of the continent. Ladies, gorgeously dressed, commenced to take their seats at the supper tables in the dining room, escorted by elegantly garbed gentlemen; some of them in full evening dress, others again in black cutaway. The clatter of knives and forks had already begun. The spacious dining room was brightly illuminated. At the further end a carpet-covered platform was visible, whose edges were a bank of flowers. Everything was tastefully arranged. A pianist was already hammering away at a waltz of one of the latest operatic successes, with frightful execution, as an introduction to the interesting program of the evening, anxiously awaited by the patrons of the house.

The clatter, the bustling noise, had suddenly stopped and all eyes were riveted expectantly on the man who had just entered. Our humorist, suffering in mind and body alike, pale and haggard, with restless eyes, made his appearance in the borrowed clothes which hung loosely about his emaciated form, tossing back his long locks with his right hand, while holding the cherished book tightly in the other, he came down to the very edge of the platform and smiled and bowed in all directions.

He looked exhausted and weary, as he was. But the room was crowded and he had to go on, whether he wanted or not, so he commenced: "Ladies and gentlemen."

He got no further. A mist swam suddenly before his eyes. A shiver shook his emaciated frame, his face became flushed and bloated and he stared and stared.

A side door had been opened a few minutes before and Mr. Ogden entered with the much admired Cleopatra on his arm.

They passed through the crowded dining room, close to the speaker's platform. She had changed her dazzling costume for a simpler, but an extremely stylish dress of blue silk. She still wore some of the lilies in the marvelous golden hair, which was now fastened with a gold comb into a plain Greek knot. She was all aglow with excitement. The triumph of the afternoon was still lingering on her handsome face. She felt like shouting it out to everybody. Such conquest does not come often to a woman in the ordinary walks of life.

She walked proudly, with a queenly step to her seat, nodding to some casual acquaintances with a charming smile. And then she took her seat and turned a glance of curiosity upon the famished face of the entertainer. Their eyes met--and for a few seconds sank into each others' like sharp daggers. A red tinge covered her startled face, then she turned away, whiter than the lilies on her breast. She trembled visibly and looked frightened, casting down her eyes.

Mr. Ogden did not seem to have noticed any change in her appearance and gazed with a shocked countenance and great pity at the reduced exterior of the poor humorist. Suddenly a great excitement was noticeable among all the guests sitting around the small tables. Several gentlemen had left their seats, rushed towards the place where the poor entertainer had collapsed after recognizing his faithless wife garbed in that splendor, so shamefully acquired, of which the wicked gnomes were whispering so constantly into his ears.

He still believed in her then; but now--the dark, threatening expression in his livid face was frightful to behold. He murmured something about the gnomes that nobody could understand, staring with hatred in his dilated eyes in the direction where she sat--she, the mother of his innocent child, now disgraced forever!

"God! What have I done to deserve such a punishment?" he murmured once more, pressing his bloodless lips tightly together as a cold perspiration broke out on his deathlike face.

A vision of his mother's warning and sorrows was presented to his benighted intelligence and made him cry with terror and shame. The conflicting emotions were too much for the sadly undermined constitution.

"The wicked gnomes!" he whispered with audible scorn and contempt in his blazing eyes, as if sudden madness had seized on him, and then tried to curse her, but not another word escaped his tightly closed lips, though the blood began to gush from them.

The truth, so cruelly thrust upon him, ended his life's drama; his eyes closed, he fell in a heap to the floor.

The pitying guests stood helplessly around him and did not know what to do. Mr. Ogden was the first one who had presence of mind to send to the nearest village in search of a doctor.